


so deck the halls and all the rest

by polarizenarry (eurekaniall)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, OT5 Friendship, it's Louis' birthday, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5533709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurekaniall/pseuds/polarizenarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's Louis's birthday, but Harry has his mind set on other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so deck the halls and all the rest

**Author's Note:**

> just a tiny christmas fic that literally came to me this morning. was supposed to be a drabble, but I'm incapable of writing anything under 3k, apparantly. sorry if the end is rather rushed, I'm a bit rusty. merry christmas, everyone, I'm going to sleep off my red wine and french cheese-inebriation. (also, this is my version of a late happy birthday to the lovely Louis T.)
> 
> title from Justin Bieber's "Christmas Love".

“Niall!”

The sound of a blessedly familiar voice is what, finally, frees him from this vague hell. He feels like he’s been stuck here for the better part of the evening, talking to one of Louis’ distant relatives in a secluded corner, a lady in her mid-thirties who just won’t let him escape for another drink, or maybe a couple drinks- but now, finally, he gets to slip away from her.

Excusing himself politely, Niall turns towards the kitchen, where the voice came from, but before he's even fully turned, Niall suddenly feels a body barrelling straight into his arms. Stumbling backwards a step with the force of it, he wraps his arms tight around the boy against his chest to make sure they don't topple to the ground in the middle of the room. There's a mop of unruly hair in his face, several chestnut-brown strands stuck in Niall's day old stubble, but even without the visual reminder of the hair he'd instantly recognised the owner of the body wrapped around him in a bone-crushing hug.

Harry's cologne smells the same as always, musky and familiar, and he also smells faintly of gingerbread spice and sugar, which isn't uncommon either with Harry's baking habits, and Niall takes a deep breath of it as he shoves his face in his friend's shoulder. He would bet a hundred pounds that there's at least three tins of assorted cookies and treats in the kitchen for Louis, baked by Harry and his mum in their cosy kitchen in Cheshire.

It's not the most ideal hug, here in the middle of this overcrowded room, his mouth full of woolly jumper and strands of Harry's hair and the awkward way Harry's clinging to him, but it's good, so Niall squeezes Harry a little tighter as he murmurs his own greeting.

"Hey, Haz. How're ya? Is Gem doing well?"

Harry's finally pulling back, then, tugging his jumper straight and rubbing at his dishevelled hair with a grin. Niall's gaze flicks down to his own hoodie, an old, ratty thing with the word Quiet on it, one of his older favourites.

Louis hadn't allowed anyone to wear Christmassy clothes, it being his birthday and all. No one objected, seeing as half of their friends had already fucked off to the Swiss Alps for the holidays and left Louis to celebrate his birthday with just his family and closest friends. Liam had even opted out of his annual family skiing trip to France to stay with his best friend after seeing the disappointed pout on Louis face as Calvin and Oli texted him they would be spending his birthday in Oslo instead.

So Niall, with several baskets full of laundry still waiting for him in his washing room, Christmas jumpers and a pair of jeans with a tea stain on them the only clean thing in his entire flat, had to go for the stained jeans and this ancient hoodie that he's quite sure he discarded in the first place because it has a come stain somewhere on the hem. He straightens the clothing as best as he can, a feeble attempt to look nice, and looks back up at Harry, who's staring at him with a knowing grin. Bastard.

"Yeah, she's alright, thank you. The flu's just about over for her now, mum and I've been steadily drowning her in tea and chicken soup, so she should be fine for Christmas dinner with the family tomorrow. I'm surprised mum let me out of the house with all the preparations going on, but I reckon she loves Louis so much she couldn't deny him a batch of her Christmas treats. _Oh!_ " He says then, eyes brightening, digging into the duffel bag at his hip which Niall hadn't even noticed in his haste to drink Harry in.

"Here, we made you a tin of those peppermint meltaways you love!" He hands Niall the tin with a giant, beaming smile and shrugs bashfully, looking down at his scuffed boots.

"Harry-" Niall starts, and he can practically feel the way his cheeks are heating up, a blush creeping up from his neck to the tops of his cheekbones.

Every year, without fail, Harry and his mum make him these cookies, because they know Niall and Maura absolutely adore them. Niall's pretty sure that Maura's more excited about the cookies than her son coming home for Christmas, actually. They've tried recreating them together, spent an entire dreary Sunday afternoon elbow deep in flour and chocolate with Harry and Gemma on Skype, instructing them how to fold in the peppermint chips, but they never managed to get them just right.

Anne has invited Niall's parents over for Christmas countless times, promising to show Niall's mum in person how to make the cookies and several other ones Maura's had the pleasure to try, but they'd never gotten around to actually flying out.

Niall squeezes the tin to his chest, holding it carefully, and looks up at Harry through his lashes with a grateful smile. 

"Thank you, Haz. You're too good t'me." He says, tugging at Harry's arm and dragging him along to the kitchen to put the tin away for safekeeping, and to finally get that drink- he's going to need it if Harry's going to keep up smiling at him like an angel for the rest of the night. It's been a week since he's seen him, and tomorrow Niall's flying out to Ireland for the holidays and won't be back until January 3rd. He's going to need to get as much of Harry as he can tonight, get his fix before he has to go without him for another week.

He pours both of them a drink as Harry launches into a story about how he finally managed to beat his stepdad at Monopoly, lounging against the kitchen counter in his ridiculous, frost green jumper. Honestly, on anyone else it would be a right fashion disaster, but on Harry it looks... good, he decides. Makes his eyes pop out even more. Niall sighs to himself as he pours the last of the orange juice in Harry's glass, topping both glasses off with a splash of vodka.

Harry's getting prettier every day, tugging at Niall's heartstrings with every new thing he comes up with. Last week, just before he left for home, he'd shown up to Niall's flat with his hair in thick braids, close to his scalp. It had looked so good on him that Niall had nearly thrown up right there, and if he'd tugged himself off to the idea of Harry fucking him with those braids in after he'd left for Cheshire, nobody had to know.

It was driving him crazy, the want, the swelling of his heart in his chest whenever the younger boy did or said something enamouring. At this point, Niall can't even remember being in love with anyone else- it feels like it's always been Harry, like he's going to be stuck loving this gorgeous, kind, funny boy for the rest of his life. He hands Harry his glass with a smile, nodding along to the story he's only been half listening to, and follows him to wherever his mind is set on taking them. He's not planning on leaving Harry's side, tonight, both to escape having to talk to any more of Louis's relatives, but also to print the image of his face into his mind as vividly as possible.

"Zayn!" He hears Harry yell excitedly and Niall spins around to the hallway where the raven haired boy had just entered.

There's a gust of cold December air as he steps inside, Liam closing the door behind him, and grinning widely at Niall and Harry, giving them a little wave before pulling off his scarf and gloves.

"Hello, lads. Where's the birthday boy, then?" Zayn asks, falling into Liam's hug with a laugh and hanging his coat on a doorknob.

Harry's already bounding over to give the boy a hug, his hair bouncing on his shoulders, and Niall follows suit, tugging Zayn close to him and patting at his back when it's his turn.

"Probably where the alcohol is." Harry says, rolling his eyes in a suggestive manner, laughing loudly when Louis punches him in the shoulder as he comes up from behind them.

"Damn right I wasn't, Styles. I was over by the food, charming my nan. Hello, Z. Glad to see you still know how to use a watch." Louis sneers good-heartedly, punching Liam's arm as he jogs over to walk into Zayn's opened arms. Liam snorts, throwing the older boy a wounded look, and tugs Niall closer with an arm around his neck, ruffling through his perfectly styled quiff and ruining it for good measure.

“Well then. Roomies before besties anyway, isn’t that right Nialler? Remind me not to opt out of skiing and snogging hot French girls next year because of this asshat, please. If you remind me in a timely fashion, I’ll even convince my dad to bring you, Zayn and Harry. Mister asshat can celebrate his quarter of a century alone, for whatever I care!” Liam’s shouting, voice filled with fake hurt and gesturing wildly with his arms in an attempt to sway Louis and possibly to somehow convince Niall to actually remind him, as well. Liam’s dad wasn’t exactly pleased to hear his only son wouldn’t be joining the Payne household on the ski tracks this year.

Harry’s giggling on Niall’s other side, fingers curling into the hem of Niall’s hoodie and he’s shoving his face against Niall’s arm, muffling his laughter in the soft cotton. He’s so close Niall can feel his body heat, even through all the layers between them, can feel the phantom weight of him as he comes closer and tucks himself into Niall’s side.

He can hear Louis and Liam bickering somewhere in the distance, but all he can focus on is the way Harry’s fingers brush over his hips, tugging at the fabric of his hoodie, how his forehead and smile are pressed against Niall’s arm. He has to actively resist the urge to reach out and tug him closer, to wrap an arm around his waist and _pull_ until they’re as close as possible, has to resist leaning in and pressing a kiss to Harry’s unruly fringe and maybe also to kiss that adorable smile off his dumb face.

Niall looks away quickly, distracted, straight into Zayn’s shining, knowing eyes. Niall blushes furiously and flips him the bird, ignoring the amused huff the other boy lets out. Zayn knows, of course, perceptive as he is- he’s known for ages, had pushed Niall to act on his little crush ages ago, long before it blew up in his face and became this massive thing. He hasn’t, of course- acted on it. Harry’s one of his best friends, _is_ his best friend, ever, and he’s not going to ruin that by confessing and shying him away.

Besides, he’s quite sure Harry’s not even on the market right now, the way he’s been having long conversations with Louis about “some boy”. Niall may or may not have cried when Louis, when confronted by Niall, told him carefully that Harry was in love with someone.

He’s not quite sure if Louis knows, but the boy is cunning is enough to realise, he reckons, so that makes three out of their group of five that know he’s in love with his best friend. One of them is probably going to accidentally let it slip around Liam, and Niall’s positive it’s all going to collapse in on each other soon, like this _situation_ is a precarious tower made of Jenga blocks, about to crash and bring everyone down with it. He sure as hell hopes that when it does, he doesn’t lose any of them, and most of all, he hopes Harry will forgive him one day.

Harry’s moving away from his side, then- following Louis and Liam into the kitchen for a refill and a snack, if Louis’s yelling about mini pizzas is anything to go by. Niall’s left in the hallway with Zayn, the air chilly with residue outside air and heavy with silence. Zayn throws him a weak smile and puts a hand on Niall’s shoulder, firm and steady, letting Niall know he’s there and he _knows_. He sees him, sees that he’s hurting and hurting and wanting and hurting some more because of how badly he _wants_. It’s almost hilarious how ridiculous his life is, pining for someone as incredible as Harry, someone who could never want him back.

“You do realise you’re going to have to do something about this, right? Once.” Zayn says, leaning against the bathroom door, his gaze steady as he regards Niall where he’s standing in the doorway.

The problem is, Niall knows. He knows perfectly well he either has to tell Harry, soon, or accept that Harry’s not going to love him back and move on, get back out there. He shouldn’t let his teenage years go to waste, shouldn’t risk not finding the perfect person because he was too caught up in an unrequited love.

“I know.” He sighs, shooting Zayn a sad grimace and biting at his cuticle.

Zayn huffs, pushing off from the door and slinging his arm around Niall’s shoulders, wriggling his fingers into stomach to get him to smile again.

“Come on. Let’s get another drink.”

(xx)

They’re four hours into the party now, the hands of the clock just gone past twelve, and Niall’s pleasantly buzzed. He’s been steadily drowning himself in cheap beer, watching as all of Louis’s family trickled out one by one, until it was just the five of them left. Liam is properly smashed already, being the utter lightweight he is, lounging on the couch and messing with his phone whilst Zayn and Louis are on a hunt for more tequila in the cellar.

It’s then that Harry confronts Niall in the kitchen, putting his hands on the kitchen counter next to Niall’s hips, cornering him against the cool marble. He’s way too close for Niall’s comfort, his fingers slipping a little in the condense on the beer bottle as he looks at Harry with a confused frown. Harry’s got a matching frown etched in his forehead, lips pouted in confusion, eyes shining with something Niall can’t quite place.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Harry says quietly, flicking his gaze over Niall’s face, and Niall feels almost naked with it, the way Harry’s searching his face for an explanation, a reason as to why Niall would voluntarily not talk to him.

Niall opts for indifference, figures that’s the thing most likely to get him out of here, out of the cage of Harry’s arms, besides claiming his claustrophobia is acting up, which it isn’t. He doesn’t mind Harry being this close to him, if he’s being quite honest, but his fingers are burning with the want to tug him even closer, the want to press the palms of his hands to Harry’s cheeks and figure out if he tastes the same way he smells- sweet and comfortable, spicy and warm and safe.

“I’m not ignoring you, Harry. I’ve been mingling, talked to some people for a bit." He shrugs, looking down at his fingers, tight around the neck of the beer bottle, his other hand stuffed tightly in his jeans pocket, avoiding Harry's intense gaze. 

Harry’s face is moving in his line of vision, forcing Niall to look at him, frown still carved onto his face, and Niall wants to wipe it off, clear his face of the worry lines and make him smile again. He _has_ been ignoring Harry, is the thing. He’s been too caught up in his own mind, tonight, has been thinking about _wanting_ too much, and he had to distance himself from Harry before it got out of hand.

Zayn had provided him with a bit of cover, inviting him to play a round of cards with a couple of Louis’s older cousins so time would go by faster. It’d been quite fun, to be honest, but it hadn’t been time spent with Harry.

“Niall, please, I…” Harry sounds distraught and he’s biting his lip, eyes shining with a glint of hurt, and Niall feels awful for doing this to him, for making his best friend feel this low.

He frowns deeper and scratches at Harry’s hairline softly, placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing softly. Harry’s eyes tear away from Niall’s face to his hand and back, flicking between the two, flickering to Niall's lips once, before he’s stepping back and tugging his phone from his pocket.

“Harry, what-?” Niall starts, watching in confusion as Harry swipes at the screen and taps it a few times.

The other boy ignores him completely, stepping closer again and bracketing Niall between his arms, looking straight into Niall’s eyes with the frown back in place. He holds his phone out, angling the screen for Niall to see what’s on, and it’s nothing, just a picture of some mistletoe, the google search bar still at the top of the screen. Harry’s face is clouded with seriousness as he takes the device back, before he lifts his arm and holds his phone high above their heads.

“There. Mistletoe. Does this mean I can finally kiss you now so we can quit moving in circles?”

Harry’s on him before Niall can even comprehend what’s happening, sliding the phone on the kitchen counter behind them and framing Niall’s face in his hands, his eyes slipping shut. He hesitates for a second, waiting for Niall to catch up to what’s happening, giving him a chance to opt out- but his breath is washing over Niall’s lips, his fingers angling around Niall’s jaw, and how could Niall ever resist when this is all he’s wanted?

And then they’re kissing, lips crashing together as Niall _finally_ tugs Harry closer and presses his palms to Harry’s hips, digging his fingers into his love handles. Harry’s lips are a little rougher than he imagined, chapped from the winter air, but it’s good, it’s amazing, and he tastes like orange juice and gingerbread and one of his hands is slipping to Niall’s neck to angle his head better, and it’s pure bliss.

Niall swipes his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, swallows the needy sound the other boy makes, moves his fingers to curl into the hair that's falling around Harry’s shoulders, and he could do this forever. Niall feels Harry’s smile before he sees it, opening his eyes to a soft, fond tilt of his mouth, the crinkles near Harry’s green eyes, and he can’t help but lean in and kiss it off, can’t help but press his lips to Harry’s again and again until they’re laughing and Harry’s pulling back, slipping one of his hands down their bodies to entangle their hands.

“You’re an idiot.” Harry whispers, smiling shyly at him, pressing his nose to Niall's cheek and gesturing between them. “How did you not notice that I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me all night?”

Niall shrugs, feeling awfully stupid for a second, smiling sheepishly and tugging Harry closer again, wrapping his free arm around his waist.

“I guess I’ve just been in love with you for so long that I thought it was more wishful thinking on my part. God, I-“ He whispers, hiding his face against Harry’s collarbone and squeezing his hand tight where they’re trapped between their bodies. “I never dared to hope I’d ever actually get to kiss you, Haz. I dreamt about it, but I never thought I’d get to do this. I never thought you’d love me back.”

Harry nudges his nose against his softly, forcing Niall to look up at his beaming face, his hands tightening around Niall’s back. He presses a kiss to Niall’s fringe, curling his fingers in the hem of Niall’s jumper and smiling at him fondly.

“Well, you better get used to it then. I’m here now, and we’ve figured it out, and now I’m not going to stop kissing you, Niall. Not ever.” He says, before wrapping his hand around Niall’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr - polarizenarry.tumblr.com
> 
> I would appreciate thoughts and comments x


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